


Never Die

by mickeymouseno1



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Immortality, M/M, Soulmates, sorta?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-28 03:37:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6313864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeymouseno1/pseuds/mickeymouseno1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian Gallagher's content with his life. Until someone saves him in more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I am well aware that I have two fics in progress. Yes, I am well aware that I post very haphazardly and irregularly. Yes, I am well aware that I probably don't have time for this. Yes, I am well aware that this chapter is only 400 words (but hey, it's a prologue, that's allowed right?)
> 
> Here's a new fic. Based on the plot of a Korean drama where one person is immortal and one person is just going through life until they meet. Then they fall in love. Here's a link if you're interested: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JHGu_36V_XE 
> 
> I am still writing, guys! I haven't abandoned this fandom! I'm just... very busy.

Ian Gallagher doesn’t think his life is all that bad. Sure, maybe he’s dancing in sparkly thongs in a shady gay club and blowing guys for 50 bucks, but it pays the bills. Especially with his classes all over the place, shifts until 3am are the only way he earns enough to survive.

And maybe he’s renting a shitty apartment on a block that would probably be better off demolished, but he lives with his best friend and that makes life so more bearable. So, Ian Gallagher might not live with many luxuries, but he’s content as he is now, and that’s enough.

Of course, that’s when his life gets turned on his head.

The story of his life’s upheaval begins with him sitting in the ED of Mercy Hospital holding his head in his hands. The hospital corridor was stuffy and the air had an undertone of bleach. The walls were magnolia and were scraped in places from the hundreds of trolleys that had bumped into them. Ian was on the verge of getting up, filled with the need to do _something_ , when someone finally walked up to him.

“You’re the one who came in with the victim?”

“Yeah, I… what do you mean, victim? What happened?”

The man, who he presumed was a doctor based from his white coat, paused for a moment, his mouth twisting into a grimace, before he answered.

“The patient had already passed away due to excessive bleeding before reaching the hospital.”

“No…”

“I’m sorry. I- someone will be in contact with you soon about what to do with the body. We couldn’t find any next of kin.”

As the doctor walked away, Ian collapsed into the chair and stared blankly at the floor.

 _They’re… dead. Dead. Excessive bleeding. Before reaching the hospital_. The words reverberated in his head, over and over again until he couldn’t take it anymore, letting out a yell of frustration.

Only then did it strike him that his phone was vibrating. Ian shakily brought the phone up to his ear.

“Ian! Where the fuck are you? It’s 5am. You _swore_ you weren’t hooking up with anyone tonight.”

“Mandy… I…”

“I swear to god, Ian Gallagher, if you’re in some viagroid’s bed right now, I will…”

“Mandy!”

“What?”

“Mandy… I… I can’t…” Ian started sobbing and he couldn’t get the words out anymore.

“Ian?” Mandy’s concerned voice filtered through the speaker. “What’s wrong?”

“I… I think… someone died because of me.”


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the tense for this fic, so the prologue has been updated accordingly.
> 
> Happy Easter!

Normally, Ian thought, there would be a line of people, struggling to hold back their grief as tears flowed steadily down their faces. The room would be all black clothes and white waxy faces with red, puffy eyes.

Instead, he was sitting alone in a sparse room that was dimly lit by two candles in the corner. A mahogany coffin was situated in the centre with a single rose placed on top of it. It was beautifully simple, Ian thought, but the atmosphere was so tragically empty. As he stared at the coffin, thoughts racing around his head, he heard someone running frantically towards him, slamming the door open.

“Ian! What happened?” Mandy rushed over next to him and gripped his arm tightly. “What do you mean someone died? Who died?”

Ian stared blankly at her. His hands were shaking slightly and he couldn’t get his voice to work.

Mandy looked at the coffin, noting the name _Mickey Maguire_ carved into the wood.

“Who is he?”

“… I don’t know.”

“But… why did he die because of you?” Mandy gulped before leaning in and whispering, “Did you kill him?”

The question jolted Ian back to reality. “What? No!”

He remembered it all too clearly. He’d been on his way home after working when one of his regulars had texted him, inviting him over for the night. When he was texting back, he hadn’t bothered to watch where he was going and as he crossed the street, he had heard a loud horn near him and turned to see a pair of headlights racing towards him.

“Then someone just shoved me!” Ian continued. “And… I lived… and that person _died_.”

They both turned to look at the coffin.

“It’s all my fault.”

Mandy turned back to him. “He _saved_ your life.”

Ian bit his lip and stared at the ground.

Mandy placed a comforting hand on his arm. “ _Hey_ , that’s a relief, isn’t it? No… I shouldn’t say that. It’s great that you… No… I shouldn’t say that either.” She paused for a moment before continuing, “Ian, it’s something to be grateful for.”

“I guess…”

Mandy scanned the room for the first time since she burst in, and twisted her furrow in confusion. “On that note… isn’t there anyone else here? Any friends? Family?”

Ian shook his head forlornly. “None at all. I searched, Mandy, but I couldn’t find anyone.”

“Shit, Ian. What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

Mandy gave him a sympathetic smile and placed a reassuring arm around him. Ian leaned into it, his thoughts still racing. He was still reeling over the fact that someone he’d never seen before had died saving him. It wasn’t just that, though. It was also the fact that he couldn’t do anything in return. There weren’t even any friends or relatives he could apologise to, or share his grief with.

He felt Mandy take a deep breath before jostling him slightly. “Come on, Ian, let’s go back. You probably haven’t slept in… shit, more than 24 hours? Wanna get something to eat first, or head back straightaway?”

Ian shook his head. “I think I’m going to stay here for a while.”

“But, Ian! You’re already missing a bunch of classes and you have another shift tonight! I know this guy saved your life, but you can’t just sit here and grovel.”

“I know, Mandy, I just want to do something for him. I want to help, I don’t know, pay for his funeral or something.”

Mandy sighed and moved to get up. “Alright.” Before she turned, she bit her lip and mumbled, “I feel kinda bad for saying this, considering all that’s happened, but I really am so relieved you’re alive, Ian.”

Ian stood up and hugged her. “Me too, Mandy. Me too.”

****

Ian sleepily rubbed the back of his head. The chairs weren’t comfortable and he’d bumped his head against the wall numerous times. The room was dark enough though for him to doze off while waiting for the funeral car to arrive. Before he could nod off again though, he heard a soft rustling noise. As he blinked his eyes open and rubbed them, he saw a white robe trailing along the floor in front of him.

With his heart pounding, Ian slowly looked up. Staring back at him was a young, pale man in a white robe. He looked familiar but Ian couldn’t quite remember where he’d seen this guy before. Ian stared at him blankly for a few seconds before it clicked.

Shit.

Mickey _fucking_ Maguire, the guy who’d saved his life, was staring right back at him.

Mickey _fucking_ Maguire, who should’ve been lying in the coffin in the centre of the room, _dead_.

“Fuck fuck fuck – it’s a ghost!”

Mickey sighed exasperatedly before clamping a hand around Ian’s mouth. “Shut the fuck up.”

Ian continued making unintelligible noises as Mickey huffed and rolled his eyes. At that moment, someone burst in, having heard Ian’s screams.

“Is everything alright in here?”

Mickey roughly threw an arm around his shoulder and slapped Ian’s back, crying, “Oh god, you poor thing! You must be seeing things since you’re scared of this place…”

Ian only continued staring at Mickey with wide eyes as Mickey leaned in and hissed in his ear, “Keep your fucking mouth shut and I’ll let you go.”

Ian gulped and waited as the stranger turned and left, muttering something about “stupid superstitious idiots.”

Mickey sighed and glared at Ian before taking his hand off.

“G-g-ghost!!! Ooof!” Mickey’s hand immediately clamped around Ian’s mouth again.

“Shut the _fuck_ up! I already told you, I’m not a ghost! Are you deaf or something?” Mickey slowly removed his hand from Ian’s mouth, who only continued shaking his head in fear.

“G-g-ghost…”

“Ugh, stupid asshole,” Mickey took Ian’s hand and placed it on his cheek. “See? Warm. Feel my hand against yours? Warm. I’m not dead, idiot.”

Ian yanked back his hands and gasped. “Y-you’re… but…” He tentatively reached out and held Mickey’s head, running his fingers through his soft hair. He then moved onto Mickey’s arms, feeling the way the muscle tensed slightly and the blood running through his veins. Shit. Apart from the creepiness of seemingly have come back from the dead, Mickey was kind of hot. Ian, in his daze, kept his moving his hands down Mickey’s body, until he realised what he was inching towards.

“Ow!”

“This ain’t Macy’s bitch, you ain’t window shopping! Hands and eyes back up here.”

Ian rubbed his sore hand. “I- I’m sorry.”

Mickey only sighed in response. “It’s fine. It makes sense you’re shocked.” He turned around and moved towards the coffin.

“Wait!”

“What?”

“So you’re… Mickey, the one in the coffin…?”

“Well I’d say I’m no longer in that piece of shit, but yes, I’m Mickey. Nice to see you’ve caught up.”

“But… you died! I saw it with my own eyes! Your head was all scraped and there was so much blood…”

“Oh my fucking god! Do you ever stop talking? I knew I should’ve just passed through, but of course, I had to save some idiot ginger… Hey!”

“Huh?”

Mickey smirked. “I did save you, you know.”

“Y-yeah…?”

“Awesome. Looks like you owe me one then.”

“… Urp.”

****

“Sniff, sniff, I’m so distraught, oh goodness me,” Ian rambled, surreptitiously strolling past a group of people who looked at him weirdly.

Mickey groaned. “Your acting is truly a marvel, Red.”

Ian flipped him off. “Hey, no-one’s stopped us so far. I’d say I’m doing pretty good.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Hurry up and load it in my car before someone that doesn’t have shit for brains actually realises I’m carrying my own coffin.”

“How exactly do you have a car all ready to go?”

“None of your business. Get to it.”

“Right.” Ian opened the door and shoved it in, taking care not to scratch the expensive-looking leather. _Wait_. “Are you made of money or something? This is a fucking Rolls-Royce. This is probably worth more than I’ll earn in my lifetime.”

Mickey huffed as he got into the driver’s seat. “You gonna keep drooling away or can we go now?”

“Fine, fine.”

****

“So… where are we going?”

“Keep your pants on, Red. You’ll find out when we get there.”

Ian sighed and settled on looking out the window. The sun was just peeking out from some clouds, casting a soft light over the horizon. It seemed so

“Oi, your phone’s ringing.”

Ian jolted, realising his phone was buzzing and moved to answer it.

“Hello?”

Mandy’s aggravated voice rang across. “Where the fuck are you? Did you leave without me, douchebag?”

“Umm…” Ian desperately turned to Mickey, who rolled his eyes and muttered, “Come up with something.”

“Umm… the thing is, instead of going to the crematorium… umm…”

Ian turned to Mickey again. Mickey groaned silently and made a furious scooping gesture with his hands.

Ian shook his head. “What?”

Mickey repeated the downward gesture, only to Ian’s confusion. He groaned and hissed, “Bury, goddamit! You’re going to bury me!”

“Ohh…”

“Hurry up. Jesus Christ, the things I put up with.”

Ian put his ear to the phone again. “I’m going to bury the body myself.”

“By yourself? Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes, by myself.”

“Really? ‘Cos I’ve got someone waiting here to pick the body up.”

“Umm… I’m just going to hang up now, okay?”

“Don’t you fucking da-”

As soon as Ian snapped his phone shut, Mickey let out a harsh bark of laughter. “Fuck, you’re a shitty liar.”

“Well excuse me if it’s my first time going through something like this,” Ian shot back.

****

“Well… thanks for everything, Red,” Mickey said, pausing to take a long drag of his cigarette.

Ian shuffled slightly, still uncomfortable about sitting on the hood of a car he felt out of his league simply looking at. “Well you went through a lot. I had to help you out.”

There was a short, amicable silence as they smoked, before Mickey reached into his pocket and took out an envelope, handing it to Ian. “Here, it’s all they paid for the coffin. They use shitty wood nowadays, but it’s better than nothing I guess.”

“I… I guess I need the money,” Ian mumbled as he reached over to take it. “Thanks.”

Mickey snorted. “Guess your job doesn’t pay too well.”

“Not really,” Ian answered sheepishly. “Oh, by the way…” Ian reached into his own pocket and handed Mickey’s tattered wallet back to him.

“The only thing not ruined was your ID. Though… you’re technically dead now, right?”

Mickey only smirked. “Doesn’t fucking matter.” He grabbed his wallet and flung it into the lake.

“It was a fucking terrible name anyway! 20 whole fucking years!” he yelled as it entered the water with a splash.

Ian simply stared open-mouthed at him. “Umm… so what now?”

Mickey grinned at him. “All done, Red. You can fuck off now.” With that, he turned and walked away.

Ian stood there in a daze before he realised what was happening. “What? Is that it? But what about-”

Mickey turned back and flipped him off. “Be careful of cars from now on. Don’t want your pretty face smeared across a windscreen anytime soon!”

“Wait!” Ian shouted back, running after him. _Shit, the guy’s fast_.

When he finally caught up, Mickey turned around abruptly with a scowl on his face. “What do you want?”

“I want to know.”

“Know what?”

“How did you survive? Who… who are you really?”

Mickey bit his lip and looked to the side. After a while, he sighed and turned to face Ian directly. “Fine. You free for a drink?”


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spending my week off writing! Instead of doing all the work and study I need to be doing! This is the epitome of bittersweet.

The staircase groaned with every step they climbed and the railing looked rusted and flimsy.

“This place seems a bit rundown.”

“It adds to the charm.” Mickey grabbed Ian’s wrist and pulled him along. “Come on.”

“Are you sure we should be doing this? It’s only 11 in the morning.”

Mickey snorted. “You can’t handle a few drinks?”

“Of course I can,” Ian bristled to Mickey’s amusement.

Once they reached the top of the staircase, before Mickey could grab the door handle, the door opened inwards, revealing a young, buff guy.

“ID?”

Ian gulped and nudged Mickey. “What do we do?” he whispered. “You threw yours away.”

Mickey nudged him back and hissed, “Well it was a useless ID anyway. I’m dead, remember? Just hand him yours first. I’ll deal with mine.”

Ian couldn’t do anything but comply, so he hesitantly handed over his student card for the guard to check. The guard turned it over in his hands briefly before handing it back. Ian slowly turned to Mickey, who hadn’t done anything.

“Your ID too?”

Mickey chuckled and reached into his pockets, then fished out a card. “Here.”

Ian held his breath as the guard scanned it.

“Hey!” Ian froze and felt his hand grip Mickey’s more tightly. _Wait. When did they start holding hands_?

“Yeah?” Mickey replied lazily.

“Happy birthday!”

Ian spluttered, choking on his own saliva.

“Hey, you okay?” the disconcerted guard asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ian waved him off. “Just choked on something.”

“Well come on in, Mr Milkovich!”

Ian paused. “Who’s-?” He was stopped by a sharp slap on the back.

“Don’t mind if I do. Come on, Gallagher, and keep up with times.” Mickey rolled his eyes and ambled in, leaving Ian standing there feeling utterly confused.

“Come _on_ , Gallagher!” Mickey grabbed Ian’s wrist and dragged him to a table in the corner.

Ian sat down, still in a daze. _Mickey Milkovich, huh? Has a nice ring to it_.

“Ey, you in there?”

Ian shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Yeah, yeah, I just… I’ve never been in a bar this early in the day before.”

“Yeah, well, live a little. The Alibi serves the best shit around here. Want some beer?”

“What? Uh yeah, sure.”

Mickey leaned out of his seat and yelled to the bartender. “Hey Kev, get me 2 beers!”

The bartender, apparently named Kev, flipped him off. “Yeah, yeah, coming!”

“Seems like you’re familiar with this place.”

“I come here from time to time.”

“By the way, where’d you get that ID from?”

Mickey grinned and placed it front of Ian. “Just one of my backups. It’s a good thing we stopped at my place on the way here.”

Ian picked it up tentatively. It was a driver’s licence, with the exact same photo as the Mickey Maguire ID, only with Milkovich as his surname instead. “Then… this is a real ID?”

Mickey snatched the ID back and snorted. “As real as it can be.”

“Really, who _are_ you?” Ian looked Mickey directly in the eye. “What’s the truth?”

Mickey sighed. “One step at a time, Gallagher. I’ve never really had to explain this to anyone before.” He turned to the bartender, who was walking over holding two massive mugs. “Think I need some liquid courage before I get down to it.”

****

“Ahh, that felt pretty good.”

Ian gaped at Mickey’s empty mugs. “Is your liver made of steel? That can’t be good for you.”

“Trust me, I don’t need to worry about that.”

“What?”

“Fine. I’ll tell you.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Listen carefully, ‘kay?”

Ian found himself leaning in too and nodding his assent.

“Alright, here’s the deal. I know I have a pretty face and all, but I was born 100 hundred years ago.”

Ian spluttered, the beer he was nursing spilling everywhere. “What?!”

“Jesus Christ, keep your pants on! Ain’t even gotten to the good bit yet!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Ian wiped his mouth sheepishly.

“I was doing some business in some back alley, alright. And some motherfucker comes and stabs me right in the back. By the time someone came across my body, I was long gone.”

“You got stabbed?!”

“Shady people everywhere. Wrong place at the wrong time. Not the point I was trying to make. So…” Mickey scanned the room before he continued. “I just came back to life later.”

Ian widened his eyes. “What? How?”

Mickey snorted. “The fuck do I know? I just came back to life.”

“And that’s when you realised you were… immortal?”

“Pfft… if that’s what you call it, I guess.”

“Huh?”

Mickey set down his mug and burped loudly. “Here’s the deal. My body hasn’t changed. At all. Not since the day I died. Every day, at exactly 6am, I sorta, I don’t know, reset or something.”

“Reset?”

“Yeah, like I might get hit by a car saving an idiot ginger, then the next morning. Boom! I’m alive again.”

“Holy shit. So, no matter what happens, you just return to how you were the next day?”

“Yep,” Mickey responded, drawing out the ‘p’. “When the clock strikes 6, my body just… resets.”

“Wow.”

“It’s pretty awesome, actually. I can stuff myself all I want and the next day, it’s all gone.”

“Huh… that’s not that bad. Wouldn’t have to go running every single day just to stay in shape.”

“Yep, I can go get a haircut, I don’t know, do something stupid like shave it all off, then the next day, my hair’s there again.”

“Wait, do you need to shave at all then?”

“Well, all these years have shown me that 5 o’clock shadow does exist. Don’t usually bother me though.”

“What if you dye your hair or something?”

Mickey raised his eyebrow. “The fuck you asking stupid questions for? Do you think if I walk out in these clothes, I’ll wake up the next day without them? I still have to shower and all that shit too.”

Ian didn’t dare to respond that he quite liked the idea of Mickey waking up without clothes on. He, for one, wasn’t immortal. Instead, he opted to mumble, “I see…”

“Happy birthday!”

A group of people had congregated around their table, singing. The Kev guy was holding a massive cake covered completely in strawberries and cream.

“I know you like them sweet, Mickey. So here’s some on the house. You’re paying for the drinks though.”

Mickey barked a harsh laugh and flipped Kev off. “Fucker.”

“Come on, time for a group photo!”

“Holy fuck, no!”

“Sit your ass down and smile, you pale-faced bastard!”

Ian chuckled to himself and watched as Mickey settled into his chair and grinned for the camera. His life seemed pretty good. Walking around everyday, not having to worry about jobs or money or _dying_ , for that matter.

Ian realised that maybe he was a bit envious of Mickey Milkovich.

****

Ian and Mickey stood outside, not saying anything as the afternoon traffic rushed past them.

“I had fun, Ian. Thanks.”

“Me too.”

“Hey, let’s keep this a secret, yeah? Don’t wanna live a stressful life when I can’t even die.” Mickey shrugged his shoulders and waved. “Well, have a good life, Red.”

Ian reached out to stop him. “Hey! You’re just going? Just like that? You… you saved me. I still haven’t paid you back for that yet.”

Mickey chuckled. “We’ll call it even. You did all that shit for me today.”

“But I don’t believe that us meeting was just a coincidence.”

Mickey’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “You what now? Alright, I’m going to stop you there. You… me… we ain’t gonna work. Best if we just say our goodbyes now and move on with our lives.”

Ian shook his head. “But Mickey…”

Mickey whipped around sharply. “You think we’re going to be anything more than just warm mouths to each other, Ian? You remember I’m immortal right? I'm going to live for god knows how long. What happens when you get old and you leave, huh? What then?”

Ian didn’t know what to say.

Mickey chuckled bitterly. “See? There ain’t any point. Find someone who you can grow old with. You’ll forget about me soon enough.” His face softened and he put a tentative hand on Ian’s shoulder. “You’re a good guy, Ian. Take care.”

Mickey turned and walked away. This time, Ian didn’t stop him.


End file.
